Easy Action
by tweetyer
Summary: Wade, amongst the living again and without a voice in his head dictating his every action, finds himself in New York. Wade. Ororo. Victor.
1. Easy Action

**Easy Action**

_prologue_

...

Wade found himself healing in various places – the scars were still there but not as bad and he was actually growing his hair back. Kinda. He didn't have to hide his entire body in public, nor his eyes but he did have to cover up his face a little. He had to practice using cover up, foundation and various other feminine products in order to fit in a bit better. And a hat. Because he was still almost completely bald. See Stryker: bastard who was next on the merc-with-a-mouth's list once he found him. Him and the two brothers who so kindly chopped his head off and left him to rot beneath all of that crap.

After the disaster on Three Mile Island, Wade had found that yes, his head did reattach to his body and yes for fuck's sake, Stryker the bastard that he was, shaved him. He was no longer the sexy merc with a mouth. He was the bald, scarred up merc with a mouth. Actually, for a time, he wasn't even a merc with a mouth. Stryker, yet again the bastard that he was, had sewn his mouth shut.

Upon awakening under an enormous pile of rubble, Wade's body took upon itself to start fixing the shit that had gone wrong – his mouth regenerated and was actually functional almost instantaneously.

By the time his wounds, his head and mouth had regenerated to full capacity, he'd had to dig his way from under his rubble entrapment. Authority figures had swarmed what remained of Stryker's top secret facility and the devil himself was nowhere to be found. Wade had had to sneak out of Three Mile slyly, hiding in the back of a police cruiser. Later on, of course, as per Wade's nature, the police officer who drove the vehicle out to block any incoming traffic wasn't found but there was a slickness on the steering wheel that had been discovered to be eyeball matter.

Now, currently, Wade was eating what was probably the greasiest burger in New York, treated by the unknowing and very much dead cop. He would have preferred sushi but New York was too expensive for him to be able to afford some raw fish wrapped in rice and seaweed. He was stuck with about a pound of brown dyed lard and a crappy, fall apart burger bun and fries made of potatoes from hell. The grease and fat of the burger dripped onto the paper wrapping it had come in and the small wrap of fries were way too salty for anyone who wasn't starving to actually consume. Luckily, Wade was starving and personally sick of IVs.

While stuffing his face with dearly missed food – edible and solid – he spotted a head of white hair on the street. However, the white hair wasn't attached to a little old lady with some 'tude. It was on a young girl – young woman actually – around her late teens, early twenties. She looked like she was about seventeen. She moved through the crowds like a fish through water; seamless and practiced. So practiced in fact that Wade almost missed her hand flash to a man's back pocket before she fell several steps behind him. Wade whistled approvingly and ignored the looks from other patrons in the diner. Some fast hands.

Her skin color was brown – not dark but actually quite light, a lighter shade than an iced mocha. Her features, while they hadn't been visible for long, revealed that she was African American and something else. The way her nose, eyes, mouth and neck all fit together made it clear that there was something in there. Kenyan? Egyptian? Something.

She haunted the spot near the diner, probably about a block in circumference, so much that Wade took to calling her Fast Hands. Or Speedy Gonzalez, but the picture of her wearing a sombrero wasn't even funny. It just disturbed him. So, Wade kept to calling her Fast Hands, which of course brought up a whole new plethora of interesting themes and ideas. He, being the gentleman that he was, totally kept this to himself.

She moved around the crowds like a salmon upstream, slid past them like a snake on a vine, stealing their paychecks, credit cards and dollars right under their noses. Women, men, those with backpacks or purses, fanny packs even and those who kept their wallet in their back pocket or on a chain – she left no one untouched.

Her white hair was stark and bright beneath the sky and Wade found himself studying how she moved. She moved like other thieves – fast, precise and sly. She could be a coy thing when she wanted, and quite ballsy. Wade watched, entertained when she ran into a police officer who almost caught her in her deed before she laughed and charmed the older man, making gestures with her hands, before Miss Fast Hands moved quick and pulled a Houdini when the cop tipped his hat and went on his way. She had his wallet stuffed into her large, floppy weaved bag before the figure of authority had fully turned away.

Wade had counted up to thirteen wallets, including the cop's and he supposed she was done for a while when she began to flow with the crowd, no longer going against it but instead smoothly blending in with the rest of the herd.

Wade snickered. These people were walking targets. Buncha idiots, the whole troop of the law-abiding suckers. Ripe picking for mischievous girls like Fast Hands over yonder.

Fast Hands walked into the diner and hefted herself up on the stool on the milkshake bar before she ordered a basket of waffle fries and a chocolate malt with the hefty waitress behind the counter taking her order. Wade grinned, she was right in front of him. That white hair was long but she started to braid it, pulling it away from her face while she waited for her order. Surveying the spot she'd chosen for a watering hole, she met Wade's eyes.

Fast Eyes had big ol' baby blues – all sparkly like. They were calculating and inquiring. Wade smiled his kinda sorta good guy smile at her and waved a bit. She smiled back a bit, shaky like she wasn't used to smiling and waved back a bit but turned to the waitress when she came back with her drink and snack.

Wade caught one of the older male customers who had been eating steak and eggs shooting him a disproving look. Wade's smile turned feral; like a hyena's.

The man choked on his steak and turned his eyes from Wade.

Wade leaned back against the back of the booth he was sitting in and stared blatantly at the back of Fast Hands and thought about the vibes he kept getting from her. Besides the ability to rob you blind, there was something else there – something that pretended to subtle when really it was blaringly loud but it tricked you into thinking it was nothing anyway; like a static shock. Wade used the condensation from his glass of water to write out Stryker's name before he slashed through it viciously.

His common sense tingled when a shadow fell over him.

Wade looked up and saw little miss Fast Hands standing over him. Big ol' baby blues were all hesitant like he might bite. Wade paused and thought about that. Well, for her, he just might.

"Hey there girly, something on your mind?" he honestly hadn't meant for that to come out as lasciviously as it had. But it did. So there. The girl looked like he had traumatized her and if they hadn't been in a diner full of witnesses; Wade thought he'd probably laugh like the devil and then kiss her. She was adorable, but she unconsciously brought out the hidden pedophile in him apparently.

She shook her head and shuddered before she coughed and spoke. "I know you saw me out on the street." She hesitated and waited for him to say something.

He did. Regrettably. "Last night? No, but if I had, I assure you, you'd have trouble walking today." Oops. Down inner pedophile. Her eyes widened and her face paled but she didn't budge an inch, which was a good thing considering that even if he was out of a job, he still had instincts like _chase_! And _catch_! And _kill_! And _kidnap_! He smiled. "Sorry 'bout that."

She blinked and her mouth opened and closed but she found nothing she could say but she nodded tightly. "I meant"-

"I know what ya meant and you're wondering whether or not I'm gonna blab, correcto?" Wade's smiled stretched. "Nah Fast Hands, I'm a loudmouth but I got my limits. We all gotta earn a livin'." She nodded tightly again. "What's your name Fast Hands?"

"Not Fast Hands," she sent him a mildly annoyed look that had him laughing despite the looks he was getting. He was rarely ashamed. Probably as bad as Victor in that aspect. Oh _ew_. She wasn't saying anything else.

"Well, mah dear, I'm Wade." He looked at her and he started to calculate something. There it was. That off center vibe – maybe a chill in the air. Whatever it was, it was coming from her. Mutant. He knew it. He just needed to prove it. Why? She may come in handy. That, and until he found any word on Stryker's whereabouts, he was going to be so _bored_. It was cruel to die, even crueler to be bored.

She pursed her lips, "Ororo." There it was. When she said her name, Wade could hear her accent slip through a little more. Swahili.

He smiled, "That's an awful mouthful. I'll call you 'Ro or 'Roro. Or Roo." She gave him a flat stare and stared wide eyed. He laughed. He opened his mouth to say something else that was crafty and witty and dashing and hilarious beyond belief but he spotted _her_. The bitch. Stryker's scientist. The butcheress. "Gotta go 'Ro, catch ya later." He stood and towered over Ororo, and they watched one another for a moment, conscious on his part but not on hers. Deciding and weighing the danger presented; firguring out how much the other represented. The corner of her left eye twitched and she backed up. She watched him warily. She'd been on the streets long enough to know danger. _Danger! Danger Will Robinson!_

Wade smiled again at her but it was that hyena smile he was quite good at instead. He exited the diner and felt her stare a hole into his back. He haunted the footsteps of Stryker's scientist and followed her up until he came upon a very exclusive hotel. He looked up, up, up. The hotel wouldn't let him in because one, he didn't have any money, two he looked like a crazy bastard anyway and three, he so wasn't dressed to enter.

So, he'd have to scale that pretty white and gold building and hunt that scientist whore down. He smiled. He totally missed his job.

…

So this is hopefully going to be story, like one I'll update and take care of and feed and junk. I hope. I'm bad at that. Anyway, to anyone who actually read this crap, I hope it was kind of well received. I know that in the movie the little girl in the village with the white hair was probably supposed to be Storm, but Scott was quite a bit older and it doesn't look like they were that many years apart in the other movies sooo that was changed in here. Also, Wade's attitude is based off of both movie and comic so it's like a weird hybrid. I don't think I'll let him break the fourth wall though…

And as for Victor...I love him, I do, especially Liev's version, so he'll be coming in shortly.

Feedback is always pleasant.


	2. Monsters

**Easy Action**

_Monsters_

…

Okay so I wanted to send PM as thanks to those who reviewed b/c I was pretty psyched about them but…well, I'm kinda stupid. I have no clue how to respond to reviews personally. So…there.

_Casakitten_! I am sooo holding you to that vow now.

_Cadet Deming_, glad you liked Wade. He's hard to do since he's a killer spaz.

_sd freek_, lol yeah, I laughed a bit while writing the pedophile part.

_ChibiLover123_, here's the more you asked for. And I'm glad you like it so far.

…

When Wade had found her, he noticed how plush and decadent everything was in this place. A bed with a sheer canopy, a bowl of fruit; pomegranate, dragon fruit, rambutan and passion fruit along with other ugly specimens that didn't look particularly appetizing. The legs of the chairs were cherry and carved to look like they had paws. Antique, tasteful paintings hung depicting naked women from the nineteenth century. This place; this place that stunk of wealth and pompousness, that held the air of snobbish pleasantry made Wade feel like ripping through it like a hurricane or like the Tasmanian Devil. He rolled his shoulders. Time enough later. He wasn't like Victor completely. He held some amount of self control.

The scientist, the butcheress, the devil's right hand was opening her laptop. She inserted a zip disk and waited. Wade didn't. He slipped into the room like a virus in a body – quietly and unnoticeable. Coming up behind her, he towered over her and saw what was on that zip disk. Numerous names, addresses, classification: homo superior and even categories. Wade's eyes narrowed. Stryker didn't know when to give up did he? Another 'I hate mutants but I'll pretend that I really just want to be chummy until I force you into a drug induced coma and shave your head' campaign was already up and running despite his previous epic failure.

Wade allowed his swords, once metaphorical extensions of his body while in combat now turned into real extensions, to slip through the flesh between his knuckles and stopped them halfway. He winced. They hurt like a mother when he allowed them to slide out. No wonder Wolverine constantly cringed and looked so pissed when he fought with them unsheathed.

The tip of one still warm sword touched her cheek and she froze in her typing. "Who is it? Wolverine?" she asked voice trembling and full of terror.

Wade's mouth twisted into a frown at the woman's guess but then he smiled it off with shrug. All that meant was that they still believed he was dead by Victor's and Logan's hands. All the better to be a great big surprise for the old devil himself. He might even bring a cake for him with frosted words; _Way Over the Hill_. But the cake would have to probably go to Victor and Logan. They were ancient sons of bitches.

Instead, Wade turned on the charm. "Nope, not even close sweetheart." The woman stiffened and inhaled sharply, as if someone had punched her in the stomach.

"Deadpool," she said, not coldly, not hostilely, but pityingly. The sound made Wade's stomach coil and roil with burning hatred. _Bitch you made me into this. I'm Wade. Not fucking _Deadpool. Wade kept to the charm like a gentleman.

"Well, I prefer Wade and it's what my friends call me by anyway," he leaned down to speak in her ear. "And you _are_ my friend, right?" his voice had lowered and while it wasn't outright threatening, there was a sharp, crueler edge to it.

She swallowed and looked at her laptop, not daring to move lest he cut her. "Then – Mr. Wilson," she coughed, "Wade, what is it…you've come for?"

Wade hummed questioningly in his throat a bit and rocked on his heels, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. "Well, I wonder, how 'bout you tell me what I came here for?" his tone was sharper, his viciousness leaking through. He was much more charming than the Brothers Hairy, but no less animal or savage.

The woman's throat worked as she attempted to swallow. "After, after you fought Wolverine and Sabertooth, the whole facility came down. They destroyed it. Stryker had managed to get out but he disappeared from the scene before the authorities could discover him." She breathed in and out purposefully but Wade kept the sword tip steady against her cheek, ready to decapitate her. "The last I heard of him, he'd been brought in for questioning. He'd become the suspect that fit the General's murder."

"Then why do you have all these?" Wade waved a hand to the laptop's screen. "Are you setting up an online dating service for mutants?" Wade tsked, "C'mon now. We get enough schtick as it is."

"Despite Colonel Stryker's – absence – my team and I keep documentation of mutants; dangerous, unique and we try to categorize them."

Wade's sword didn't waver. "Why?" he was honestly curious. If she had been trying to categorize them for any purposes such as perhaps to create yet another "perfect" soldier, she wouldn't be so quick to answer him for fear of retribution. This was on a whole new level.

Her throat worked while she attempted to gain some saliva back into her cotton dry mouth. "We are trying to link their genetics, see back into their ancestry. Perhaps, the reason why there is such a wide variety of mutants, and how they leap frog over Homo sapiens is derived from them being descendants of mutants who were less developed than they. If, if that is the case, then," she licked her lips, "We are trying to track how much they can evolve, and at what point it will stop, or consume them." Her eyes flicked to his when he came to stand closer, to view the laptop with mild interest. "We aren't trying to create another…super soldier," Wade glared at her in warning, eyebrows raised. "It's a scientific inquiry." She was honest. A total frigid bitch who that mutants had no place being on the same level of equality as they, but she was honest.

Wade nodded. "You know what comes next," he said it smoothly, quietly, as if to comfort her. She closed her eyes and nodded, body shaking in fear. "Are you sure you don't know where Stryker is?"

She shook her head, "No," she hesitated but spoke again anyway. "If I did and told you, it still wouldn't help, would it?"

Wade grinned at her crookedly, not because he didn't want to do this, because he really, really, really wanted to slice her head off and see her spray, but because it was simply in his nature. "'Fraid not," he stared at her, "Since I can still picture you in a white lab coat." She whimpered and looked as though she was about to cry before the sword came down – it barely paused when it carved through her throat, slashing her bones and muscles and skin.

Blood trickled and her head rolled on the pretty, darkly polished coffee table. Her forehead knocked the edge of the porcelain fruit bowl.

He cocked his head and stared at all the names; names with addresses, blood types, schedules, pictures – the whole nine yards. He yanked the zip disk out and stuffed it in his cargo pants. May come in handy. Wade was thick headed and oblivious but he wasn't stupid. She'd been lying when she said that the incident at Three Mile Island had been the last she'd heard of Stryker. She may not have seen him since or even know where he was, but that was not the last time he'd contacted his best scientist.

Wade cracked his neck and itched to go through the files she had, every inch of the hotel room but he didn't have gloves, and currently, he didn't want to leave any trace that it was him. Let Stryker think it was Logan or Victor. He grinned. The swords slid back in and he tensed. He so wasn't used to this. He ran to the window and looked out, and judged the distance over to the adjacent building that her hotel room viewed. Wade thought about it and shrugged. It wasn't like a fall would kill him anymore.

He jumped, body arching while he fell through the air, wind whipping at his tank and cargo pants. Wade started to grin when he saw how far he'd jumped and then it fell. Apparently he still sucked at judging distance. He fell several meters short of the building. His form flickered out of sight and in less than a moment, he was kneeling behind a dumpster. He blinked and swore sharply. Teleporting left him feeling sick and queasy. Yet another thing Stryker ignored when he ordered him to kill the two brothers. Asshole.

He shrugged the ill feeling off as best as he could before he turned to his head to spot the hat he'd lost while scaling the building, hunting for the scientist. He grinned and sniffed it. It smelled like a bad banana. He thought about it. Bad banana or baldness? Bad, horrible banana smelling merc or unsexy, barely any hair left merc?

Wade shoved the hat over his head and nonchalantly walked out in the open street that continually bustled with movement. He felt pretty good. It had been a good and productive day. He ate, saw pretty jailbait, he killed a woman who made him into the freakier mutant he was now; a total demotion from his mutant coolness from before. Also. He was now a step closer to finding Stryker – once he found a laptop of his own and could rifle through the files on the zip disk. He'd kill him when he found him. Slowly.

Wade cracked his neck but felt a chill run down his spine. He stopped for a moment when sudden black rain clouds blotted out the sunshine and blue sky. That didn't happen too often. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. Wade's eyes narrowed. There was a shriek, a crash and gunfire. He spun into an alleyway and peeked out to see what was happening. People parted and ran like the bleating, terrified sheep they were. Wade waited another moment and felt the wind pick up unnaturally quickly. White hair was visible. He raised his brows, intrigued.

There came 'Ro running like the devil was at her heels with a squadron of black clad men following her, armed to the teeth. They had to fight against the wind blowing against them, pushing them back. One of them fired and Ororo crumpled to the ground, crying out like a wounded animal. Wade felt his blood heat. This was his type of scene. She limped to her feet, dragging her leg that bled freely. Another shot rang out and it got her in her shoulder. A tranq dart.

The people around were already freaking out. It wasn't like his presence would cause them to freak out anymore. He shrugged. To hell with it then. Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked, lashing out at the man closest to Ororo; the blast sent him flying back about twenty feet where he connected with a car, dented it and then lay still. Wade whistled. Fast Hands had some bite to her. He rather liked that.

He moved and the swords came out of his knuckles – his hat fell off again but whatever. He'd pick it up when he was done killing people.

Ororo saw him and her eyes widened when he twisted into an aerial spin, swords flashing and catching bullets, allowing them to bounce off and away harmlessly. He changed the angle of one of his swords to force the bullet to ricochet back to the shooter. He choked and fell back, his trigger finger slipped and forced out rounds of bullets to his comrades. Wade cackled when his two of his teammates fell to their sides, twitching.

Wade spun and dodged another bullet. He concentrated but apparently he didn't have laser vision. That sucked, Wade thought while he frowned momentarily, dancing his way into slash range of his current enemy. Must've been because he'd had his head cut off. One sword went into the belly of the man and he twisted viciously, using the other to decapitate the man. He kicked the body of the man hard so that it fell against one of the men who had turned his attention from the less dangerous mutant and sent him crumpling to the concrete street.

He slid into a lower stance before his swords, his babies, did their stuff. Deflecting and reflecting every shot those sub machine guns did. He wasn't grinning anymore but he was having too much _of a blast_ to focus any energy on grinning. One of the men had a brilliant idea and turned his gun on Ororo who was swaying from either blood loss or the tranquilizer. Wade moved and kicked out with a booted foot slamming into his face. He felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath his foot. The man landed heavily and coughed on his blood.

Ororo directed a bolt of lightning down but she missed terribly. It landed two feet from Wade. He yelped loudly and fixed a glare on her, "Hey, watch it miss or I'll let ya bleed out!"

Without turning his attention to the man in front of him who was scrambling for his pistol, he ran his sword through the man's chest and out the other side, before he slashed through bone and muscle and the sword exited through the man's arm. There were two left. The amazing gales of wind were dying down quickly and Wade could hear sirens not too far off in the distance. The black clouds dissipated and the air no longer sizzled with dangerous, high voltage energy.

Wade turned to look and sure enough, she lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath. He rolled his eyes. Even when he hadn't had his fancy healing factor, a little flesh wound never caused him to lose consciousness or a tranq dart – not that he'd ever let either get close enough to him to do any damage. The men were already backing away and to their vehicle that looked like a faster moving tank.

Wade sighed and shrugged. He had to let them go, loathe as he was to do so, but he had a bit of company for entertainment at least. His swords slid back in and he couldn't help but tense. They still hurt like a bitch.

He walked over to where the white haired girl lay and toed her in the side not so gently with a boot. "Hey. Hey, no sleeping in the middle of a sidewalk. People will think you're a stray. Don't want that." She groaned and swatted weakly at his foot, muttering _go to hell_ in Swahili. He rolled his eyes. "Up and at 'em 'Ro, bad people are coming."

"More of them?" she managed to say, gasping while he yanked her to her feet and balanced her at his hip.

"What? No. I meant the cops," he saw that she was still clutching her bag full of wallets. "Let's go find somewhere to crash and get you patched up." Her weight suddenly became more prominent as she passed into unconsciousness. "Tch. Women. Always fainting when the getting's good." He muttered and went to retrieve his hat and shove it over his head. He threw her over his shoulder and grunted. The sirens were coming closer, people screaming, pointing at him and the bodies and the men in black were gone.

It was chaos all around – vehicles were dented, shot up, bolts of lightning had caused the pavement and sidewalk to split and crack. A religious fanatic proclaimed it was God's wrath and His judgment was close at hand. Few others gasped at the thought of an apocalypse. Most stared at the white haired girl over his shoulder and just as suddenly as they'd been frightened and running from the gunfire, they twisted to become angry; pointing at both Wade and Ororo.

"Freaks!"

"Mutants."

"_Monsters_."

Whatever they called them wasn't important. All he knew was that he needed to leave the scene of the crime quick before there was any evidence that it had been his doing. He started to jog away from the sound of the sirens and his pace picked up once his equilibrium balanced out. He moved fast through the crowds, jumping over still cars and dodging civilians who knew now that there were mutants near.

Standing over one of the bodies of the deceased men, a tall man in a dark cloak watched Wade run before he sniffed the air, drawing it in raggedly. He leered, recognizing the scent. He heard the screech of tires behind him and raised a brow before turning. A police officer, female got out of the passenger seat of the interceptor. "Freeze! Hands where I can see 'em or I shoot!" she snapped. Her partner stepped out as well and he aimed a pistol at him as well.

"You heard her, hands up!" he yelled, angry and trying to be intimidating.

Victor laughed and raised his hands over his shoulders, letting his claws lengthen. Her eyes widened. "Jesus Christ," she whispered, fear surrounding her. Her partner's eyes widened and he ducked into the vehicle. Victor could hear him requesting backup. "You just stay where you are," her voice lost its authorative tone and bordered on pleading.

Victor smiled viciously, showing his fangs. "Now why would I do that?"

…

Feedback is always appreciated and loved.


	3. Monsters II

**Easy Action**

…

Aside from a total idiot, I am also very lazy. It's not a threat but more of a plea…for everyone to be patient. –nervous laughter- Also, small bullshit back story on Wade. Not meant to be accurate or sweet.

_Sam Wiise Gamjii_, lolz I can't promise smooching but I can promise teasing and I'm glad you like what'd been happening so far.

_ACE_, why thank you

_ChibiLover123_, ah yes, poor 'Ro. At least she's got Wade...well that's comforting.

_sd freek_, I love Victor too -grin- and I'm glad that the action wasn't too much. I don't really want to overload.

_Black Rose Crystal_, glad you like Wade's characterization, as I've said before, he's rather hard for me to write.

_Captain Deadpool_, so glad you liked the action and that you like the character writing.

…

_Monsters II_

…

It was sometime in the late afternoon that Wade decided to stop; that this place was at least far enough from the total catastrophe earlier.

Wade had used some of the cash the girl had gotten (stolen) to check into a seedy little hotel, checking in, unsurprisingly, hadn't been a problem when he waved a wad of cash. The man said nothing about the bloodied girl in his arms, probably figuring she was just another unlucky coke mule. Once in the dirty room he paid for, Wade spread out towels and dumped Ororo on the bed before he moved to draw the blinds. He moved back to rip some of the sheet off and tie it around her calf tightly to create a makeshift tourniquet.

Ororo's bleeding had clotted but she still lost a lot of it, and he didn't want to take the chance that she may shift and the wound would bleed again. Wade doubted the girl had ever been in a hospital before, and with good reason. Who knew if her powers were tied to her emotions? One slice with a scalpel or a needle in the arm and suddenly some poor chump would get a lightning bolt up the ass. Wade rolled his shoulders and got up, intending to do something for her before she died or infection set in. He yanked the door open and locked it shut behind him.

The hotel manager, a fat, greasy little old Filipino man looked up at Wade, noticing the black tattoos on his arms. "Can I help you?" he asked rudely. Wade grinned.

"Yeah, there a drug store near here?"

"Nope, there's a twenty-four hour pharmacy though. It's down a block, take a left and it's next to a liquor store called _Barry's_. Can't miss it." Wade saluted him mockingly before he turned on his heel and walked out. The hotel manager watched him go. "I hope that asshole cleans his fucking mess after he'd done with her."

Wade narrowed his eyes thoughtfully on the rather empty road. This was New fucking York. It should've been busy as hell but he supposed the earlier fiasco had something to do with the silence. Also. Who the fuck were the men in black that had been chasing 'Ro? Maybe Stryker was already picking up the pieces. He'd have to interrogate her, but for that, he needed her alive, and in order for her to be alive, he needed to clean her up some.

He hadn't actually been in charge of handling a live person since he'd been eighteen, as an unlisted little prick in the Army on an undercover mission that was never to be released to the public or even other people of authority. He had gone under the cover of friendly fire to go destroy an enemy bunker. The enemy bunker that had been located in a little village, as it had turned out, had been a holding cell for children. They had all been pathetic. Bright eyed, dirty haired, filthy, stinking humans left to rot by their own parents. Left as decoys. At the time, when Wade still had some amount of ethics and morals, he had questioned what was to be done about the children.

His commanding officer gave him a look and so did the rest of the platoon. His commanding officer hesitated before saying that children would go with them. The men looked disturbed. Out on hostile territory they had no busy being in in the first place, with children would sign a death warrant for all of them. One protested, saying that they should leave them. Wade didn't participate in their loud argument, or the outnumbering of their commander.

He kept staring at the little girl nearest to him, who would later be unforgettable as the first child he'd killed.

The children went with them and the platoon searched for somewhere to drop them off. No luck. Too many villages had been butchered, raped and terrified by soldiers. Little bodies of shot babies, mothers, children, elderly; the list went on and the air stuck of rotten flesh and warm blood on a hot day.

Sometimes, Wade was forced to carry the little girl who seemed to attach herself to him at times because her shoeless feet would crack and bleed. She never smiled at him. Never looked like she'd ever been happy. She didn't even like him. Wade had been curious that if she disliked him so much, then why stick with him?

Then, one day, after killing off a group of soldiers (who were really just kids about twelve, each wielding a semi automatic or an Uzi), Wade's entire platoon, including him, noticed how much water they had left.

Their commanding officer gave a new order.

They couldn't care for the poor little sons of bitches anymore, but it would be irresponsible to simply let them go – they'd either die by starvation, disease or an animal would eat them – or at the worst case scenario, they would turn on the platoon. Wade had been ordered to shoot them, just like the rest of the platoon, and to make it quick, once in the head so they wouldn't suffer. In the dry air of Zimbabwe, Wade had hesitated once upon a time ago.

The first one he had killed, he had unsurprisingly not forgotten. It had been the gaunt little girl with enormous black eyes and open sores all over her little body. Flies swarmed her body as if she were already a corpse. She didn't cry when he raised his gun to her head levelly and shockingly steadily, but she never blinked. Just kept staring at him, even after he put a hole through her forehead and she fell to the dusty dirt.

That was the experience Wade had with keeping people alive. Bandaging some things up, he'd had to do that when he first went in the Army, for all the little stupid mistakes he made and for not training himself properly.

The drug store that was located next to _Barry's_, was in fact, a cozy little shithole that made Wade feel all warm inside. He stepped in and a young Mexican girl saw him, her eyes were dark and shadowed and he could see the outline of a knife in her pocket. An Asian boy with crudely dyed hair stood next to her and Wade was fairly certain that he probably had a gun. He walked past them not looking the least disturbed, grabbing gauze, hydrogen peroxide, black thread, a syringe and a sewing kit. He paused in front of the thin, small man behind the counter and Wade thought he looked a little like Bradley. Wade dumped his acquired items on the counter nonchalantly.

"Nyaa, what's up Doc? You got morphine?" he asked, smacking his lips on an imaginary carrot and rocking on his heels. The man shrunk back a little.

He cleared his throat, "Do you have a prescription?"

Wade shook his head rapidly. "Nope, that I do not have," he dug into a pocket located on his cargo pants. "But I got these? How 'bout it stranger?" he waggled his brows at the pharmacist who paled and took another step back.

"Sir," he cleared his throat, "We can't give out medication that requires a prescription." He sounded like he was pleading.

Wade stared. Of course he knew that. He was hoping that the Brain here would just say 'fuck it there's money' but he didn't. "You know," Wade began conversationally, "That I need to sew up a bullet wound for a friend of mine? She won't last long, and it'll be worse if she has to feel all of it." He leaned over the counter, allowing his chest to expand and heave beneath his white wife beater; his shoulders rolled back and hunkered down tensely. His hands spread out over the counter and his biceps jumped; showing off tight veins and heavy duty muscle.

"Th-then you, you um should take your ah lady friend to a-a nearby hospital," his sentence ended with a squeak. The thin, balding man shuddered when the man across of him narrowed his eyes.

"She can't go to a hospital. Doesn't like doctors that one." Seeing that violence may need to be in order, Wade felt his knuckles split and withheld a wince when the sword tips emerged out, three inches in measurement for each. "Do we really need to go through this?" Wade asked, liltingly as if rhetorically asking the time in disbelief after having already been answered said question.

The man stumbled back into a shelf behind him at the sight of the metal gleaming at him from the man's knuckles. "Please, please d-don't kill me."

Wade scratched his earlobe out of habit before he rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Morphine? Life? Hello?" he leaned forward so fast that the little man sputtered when he realized he was mere inches from his face, body still safely on the other side of the counter. He rapped the balding man's head with a knuckle, careful of the sword tip. "C'mon now, get them gears workin' a properly!"

The man, gasping for breath blindly searched for morphine, reading the labels and tossing them carelessly without ever taking his eyes from him. He found morphine and gave him two bottles. "Take all of it, no charge, no charge just please, please don't kill me." The little man begged and hiccupped on a sob. Wade recoiled as if he'd been burned.

"Have some balls man! Have you ever even been laid before, I mean good god" – Wade cut himself off, seeing a shelf behind the counter. Hustlers. Playboys. Playgirls. Yum. Wade raised his brows, "I want a copy of that Hustler mag annnnnd," he searched for something else, taking his time despite the girl possibly bleeding to death at the hotel. Wade went to the junk food aisle, figuring little miss Fast Hands would probably be more amiable if he got her to eat something. He came back with Sour Gummy Worms, three large Cadbury bars, a large bag of Cheetohs and six pack of bottled water. He gave the withering, pale faced, sweating Bradley look-alike a big grin when he saw the Hustler peeking up at him. "Nice doin' business with ya. Meep meep." Wade cackled, swiping all of it into an enormous grocery bag and carried the water under one arm.

Wade walked out gracelessly and onto the street, noticing the darkening sky. Something made him agitated, whether it was the air, the weather or the people, he wasn't sure. Ever since becoming 'Deadpool' nothing felt right. Being stronger and faster was a plus. His body as a whole, however, suffered. His tan was gone and so was his hair. Good bye sexiness. Other than the obvious, his entire body felt heavier, though not harder to move quickly. Everything was so different; out of place. Like trying on a person's clothes, a person who was almost the same size as you and you could fit in them, but it was just – strange. To say Wade was displeased about not being able to fit 'rightly' in his own fucking body was a severe understatement.

Now he was just being a grump and it annoyed him. He was Wade Wilson – he was the merc with a mouth, the best of the best of the best, who had now been turned into a mutant. He need only wait it out; his hair would grow back, his scars would recede and he'd get a tan again. His body would fit like the glove it was meant to be. He'd be Wade Wilson again and not Deadpool. Also, if all this internal pep talk didn't do it for him, he had Hustler. Lovely lady things men didn't have always fixed everything. Wade wondered if they had back shots. He liked his share of nice looking tits and ass and long legs and a pretty face, but he was really a back man. A long, curved back with nice, broad feminine shoulders. It was weird. But, at least he didn't have a foot fetish and that's what mattered in his book.

Something, an itch or maybe worse, crawled along the inside of his skull and ate away at the tissue. Wade's back went ram rod straight. He narrowed his eyes and turned cautiously, spotting only a couple hookers and the early-late crowd. Wade lost his former cheeriness in favor of concentrating on the world around him. Something, rather someone, was following him and not even bothering to really hide their presence. Wade bet it was someone feral. Logan? Maybe. Victor? Maybe. Logan would only do it for revenge but Wade doubted he'd go for subtlety. He liked to just barge in, whooping and hollering and bellowing in rage and ferocity. Victor was more into the predatory stance – prowling, sniffing, taking his time with kills and gnashing his teeth in a wicked devil's smile. So, it was probably Victor.

Wade stopped and teleported to the hotel front and clenched his jaw against the nausea. He went in and tramped up the stairs, ignoring the irritated look the manager sent him. He opened the door and there she was, breathing, cold and shivering.

Huh. Tough cookie, Fast Hands was.

He hunkered down next to her and washed his hands with hot water from the sink.

Wade sat down on a chair he pulled next to the bed and he picked up the syringe, winging the amount of morphine. He shot it into her unprotected thigh and she gasped, eyes flying open though they seemed glazed. He smiled cordially, "Hey there Fast Hands, just lie back, it won't hurt," he soothed. Her eyes widened and like the wounded animal she was, attempted to crawl away. Wade snagged the belt loop on her shorts and yanked her back. "I'm not going to fuck you, silly," he admonished and she kept staring. "Imma fix you up. Just kick back and don't complain." Her head rolled. She whimpered. Wade stared at her hair. He blinked and touched her calf where she'd been shot, untying the tourniquet knot. "This won't sting a bit, I promise." He slid the tip of a sword in her open flesh and used his finger as leverage and popped the bullet out. She screamed. The morphine obviously took longer to set in.

He whistled, "That was easier than I thought." In the background, Ororo sobbed, gasping and incoherent due to pain and blood loss. Wade reached over and threaded a needle. "You know, when I was fifteen, I knew what I was going to do with my life." He kept talking, mostly because she was awake but not lucid enough to really listen. He poured a cap full of hydrogen peroxide over the small hole. She hissed, moaned and tried to swat at him. He caught her hand at the wrist and let it drop limply to the bed. "I knew that I was going to join the Army. I did. I was lucky enough to be sent into a special forces group that did missions 'round the world." He picked up the needle and pierced her skin, she wriggled but he held her leg firmly.

"I was kicked out for killing one of the guys from my platoon, so then, I had no clue what to do." He chattered along, sewing up the girl's leg. She was completely boneless. Looked as if the morphine kicked in.

"Then, Colonel Stryker came to me and offered me a position. A mercenary. Kill all the people I want, get paid for it, and the bonus of getting an 'I can get away with whatever the fuck I want' card. Well. Kinda." Wade watched his fingers work the needle through her skin, making a small stitch. Done. He used the tip of one sword to slice off the excess after he tied it off. Wade wrapped her calf with gauze; loose enough to not suffocate the stitch but not tight enough for it to fall off. He leaned back and prodded at her back with a stiff finger. "Hey. Hey. Hey. Are you awake?" he got a soft snore in response. Wade leaned back thoughtfully. He looked at her, young and exotic and a mutant. White hair against brown skin.

"Yanno, you're going to regret that I saved your ass sooner or later." He said unflappably into the growing darkness of the room.

…

Feedback is always appreciated and criticism is always welcome.


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